Guilty As Charged
by sballchick
Summary: We Have Reasons To Believe That This Murder Was Not So Accidental. A OneShot By Yours Truly. Dedicated To Jessi T.! Enjoy!


((So, here's another OneShot from me! I hope everyone likes this one! It was hard, but – somehow, I managed to make it work! Enjoy!))

**Guilty As Charged**

As I sit alone in my room with only the thoughts of the events that have happened within the past few weeks to keep me company, I go over every single detail of this situation. I lay my stillest while looking up at my ceiling, thinking of how I could've changed anything. In my mind, there were thousands of "what ifs" circling my brain, but I know for a fact, that fate had taken this one by the reins.

Everyone has said that this incident was unfortunate; especially by the youth of the victim.

"_What caused this?" _

That was the whole city's exact question to this mess. No one could explain it as well as I could, but I never felt like telling everyone how and why it happened. But for the sake of you readers, I'll try my hardest to get through it without breaking down. Forgive me if I do.

I really didn't see it coming. I mean, there might've been some signs, but I was too naïve to realize the extent of her power. And afterwards, I would mentally kick myself every night for letting it happen to her. I mean, I was supposed to protect her! I was the one who made it my life goal to look out for her as much as possible. Given the knowledge of her past-life, I knew what she could end up doing instead, but I needed to take care of her; for her own well-being.

It was so clear to me as to why this would happen. Damn it, I should've seen it coming! Why in the hell was I so blind? What made me think that she wasn't capable of doing this?

It started out subtle. You know, a mild threat here and there. One that was like, "You better watch yourself." And then of course, you'd have the reply such as, "What does that mean?" or, "Is that a threat?" But all in all, I never expected it to come down to this. Not at all.

After a few weeks of hard glances and evil eyes being cursed upon one another, it escaladed into something bigger. It was no longer asked if these remarks were threats; they most definitely were threats. You could tell just by the sound of her voice.

"_**Just leave!"**_

"_**What is your problem?"**_

"_**You! And if you don't leave now…"**_

"_**What? Are you going to kill me?"**_

"_**Don't give me any ideas! You have no idea what I'm capable of doing."**_

_(silence)_

"_**Some little advice before you leave: sleep with one eye open."**_

But the day of the event was a day I wish I could rewind and be the savior of. I hadn't gotten a call from her in a few days and believe it or not, I was getting quite worried. So I took it upon myself to make a surprise visit over to her house. When I entered the driveway, I was immediately taken back by the overwhelming feeling of regret. _Maybe I shouldn't have come over here._ But I managed to suck up whatever bad feelings I was feeling and somehow, made my way through the front door into the walkway.

And then, as I'm making my way through her dining room, I see a small figure lying in the crook of the wall. Legs sprawled outward and back against it. I figured it was the one I was looking for and I walked briskly up to her. Saying her name a few times along the way and noticing her not responding. My heart started to rattle within my chest and when I finally arrived to the point I was expecting to get to, I could've died right then and there. Her eyes were closed and her mouth was agape. I quickly jumped over to the nearest lamp to illuminate the room. It took me more than a few seconds to look in her direction; I did not want to see it clearly. But when I wrangled up my courage to look over my shoulder, my world suddenly went black and my knees buckled out from under me.

The next thing I know, I woke up with the feeling of cotton in my mouth. I was confused as to where I was for a few minutes, but when I looked over to my right and saw her body, life-less and such, I just about did a repeat performance of blacking out. I uneasily crawled over to where she sat and tried to think of a way to figure out if this was truly happening. I reached my hand out to hers and immediately pulled it back into me. It was cold as ice and I couldn't imagine how she got that way. Her hands were always so soft and warm feeling against mine when we held hands. _How could this be happening to me?_

Just then, my instincts kicked in and I shot up to go get the phone. I dialed in 911 and was quickly connected to a ready voice.

"911. What's your emergency?"

It was hard for me to talk; seeing as how I had no saliva deposits in my mouth and on the other hand, there was a dead body of a loved one in the next room.

"Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?" said the urgent voice.

"Umm… yeah – I'm here! Look, I need someone over here right now!"

"What's your emergency, ma'am?"

My voice cut out once again, but this needed to be done. She needed help.

"My… my girlfriend…"

"Ma'am – calm down. Now I need you to tell me what the matter is so I can help you, okay?"

"Okay. But my girlfriend… I think she's dead!"

"Alright, ma'am. Now tell me… is your girlfriend cold?"

"Yes… she is!"

"Okay, we're sending an ambulance over right now. Just stay calm, ma'am."

"Thanks!"

And with that, I threw the phone down and ran back over to her. I cradled her in my arms and rocked back and forth with her. Gently moving pieces of hair out of her face and placing a small kiss on her forehead.

"Please don't die! I need you. You're my world…" I couldn't help but sob out loud. "I love you."

In just a mere five minutes, I heard the sound of sirens in the driveway. I gingerly laid the fragile figure down in her previous position and scurried to the front door. I was bombarded by officers and emergency workers of the hospital.

"Where's the injured?" asked a stout EMT.

"She's in the dining room." I managed to whimper out.

He pushed through me and the rest of his crew followed like ducklings. They all crowded around the girl and examined her with care.

"Check her heart rate, Rob."

"There's no pulse, Dave."

"No pulse?"

"None… at all."

"Oh Jesus! Are you sure?"

"Dave, I know when to tell if someone doesn't have a pulse and this girl… she doesn't have one."

As they were looking over her like vultures, I was standing in the doorframe way carefully tuned in to this scene. I, too, almost lost my pulse when I heard that she didn't have one. That could only mean one thing…

I dashed over to the group and jump in the middle. Once again, I cradled the girl in my arms and started shouting over their concerned voices.

"Do something! Anything! Please… just do something, for God's sake – do something!"

The only lady of the group came up to me and went down on her knees to meet my level. She looked my in the eyes with sad orbs and I couldn't help but be overwhelmed by all of this unfolding in front of me. She wrapped her arms around me and gently rubbed her hand along my back.

"Sweetie, there's nothing we can do for her. Do you understand this?"

"No! I mean, can't you do something… anything?"

"I'm sorry, but no – we can't. She doesn't have a heart rate and if she doesn't have a pulse, then that means that her heart isn't working." Her head slowly tilted down in shame. "I'm sorry… but there's nothing we can do for her."

That's all she had to say to me to make me sick again. Once again, my world went black.

I don't really remember the next few days all that well, but what I do remember is the call from the examiner. Her body was sent to the examiner to find out what exactly killed her.

On a dark day in L.A., the examiner called me and told me what had killed her.

"Hello?" I asked sadly.

"Yes, we have the results as to why your friend died the way she did."

"Alright… please continue."

"We have reasons to believe that this was acute suffocation. We found her air-ways blocked by tiny pieces of white linen and we also have reasons to believe that this was no accident."

"What do you mean 'no accident'?" I asked.

"Well… when we unclogged her throat from the tight linen, we also found a strip of paper lodged between the cloth. Our guess is that it was some kind of note."

"A note? What kind of note? What did it say?"

"Well… we're not really at liberty to say…"

"But Doctor, I need to know what happened to her. Please… tell me."

"As you wish. But you do know that I am risking my career to tell you, don't you?" pleaded the doctor.

"Yes. And I'm extremely thankful for that. But I need to know."

"Well, when we read the note, it state: 'I told you what was wrong! You chose not to listen to me and now, you're getting what you deserve.'"

His words tingled all through my body like a flame had been lit inside me.

The next few days were hectic. Searches being held at her house, police calling my house and asking me questions. Questions like: "How were you involved with the victim?" "Was there anyone who would want to kill her?" "Did you ever feel like killing your girlfriend?" At the end of the day, I was so sick of all the questions and questions and questions. I needed to scream out loud just to feel better.

But the next day was the strangest of all the days. The police had come to my door at about 3 am. My dad had emerged from his slumber and answered the door with half awareness as to what was going on.

"Yes, Sirs?"

"Mr. Carlin, is Mrs. Carlin home?"

"Umm…" he stammered, "Yes, she's here. Do you need to speak with her?"

"Yes, Sir."

Arthur threw his voice upstairs; sounding for Paula to come down. But of course, when someone hears the door ring at 3 am, and then their mother being called downstairs, she's not going to come down alone. Glen, Clay and I made our way carefully downstairs with our mother leading the pack.

"What is it, Art?" she took one look at the gentlemen standing in her doorway and caught herself on the railing of the staircase.

The officers stepped through; entering our house and grabbed my mother by each wrist.

"Mrs. Carlin, we have suspicions that you have something to do with this murder."

As they were handcuffing her wrists together, they stated the following: "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

All of us where dumbfounded. Shocked, if you must. I could feel my blood boiling under my skin's surface.

The next few days were all about the court trial of this murder.

But at the end of all this confusion and turmoil, the judge remained calm, cool and collected.

As I'm sitting in the front row of the court house, I notice my mother turning around every five seconds or so, looking back at me with much hate in her eyes. It was as if she was somehow blaming me for all this. But her dirty looks were interrupted by the judge standing up and relieving us by saying what the conviction was.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Martis." yelled the ballif.

We all did as we were told.

"The court finds the defendant, Paula Carlin, guilty for the murder of Ashley Davies."

And with a crack of his mallot, the trial had finally come to an end.

((Please review! Thanks!!))


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